Castiel Has a Question
by The-Turducken-Affairs
Summary: Castiel has been thinking about this for a long time, but he just can't seem to come to a reasonable conclusion. He turns to Sam in hopes of truth and revelation. No spoilers other than Castiel's existence. Warning: This is dumb.


**Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me, but they can certainly borrow this gem if they want!**

**Warning: This is stupid.**

It has been a long day by the time the Winchesters enter their temporary domicile. Particles ranging from the Himalayas (carried into the room second hand from a lonely man who had shaken hands with a mountain climber at the local diner two weeks ago) to a particularly pungent layer of H20, sodium, and potassium (attributed to the copious amounts of fornication that had taken place in this room) fill the area.

Castiel knows all this, just by being an angel, but filters it through his mind and allows other thoughts to take precedents. At this very moment, he has a query that he has thought long and hard over, but seems unable to solve. He spent hours amongst the monasteries of China's monks, oohm-ing and seeking guidance. He spent minutes beneath lakes (all of them) amongst the fish, dolphins, and even Nessie (he never tells Sam or even Dean about her, because she really is a magnificent, shrewd creature). He even spent a second with all of the missing socks in the world. Yet, the sun has reached the height of its trajectory and Castiel remains confused.

So here he is, waiting for Sam and Dean to settle down so that he may ask one of the most brilliant, respected (when he is not being blamed for his, Heaven, and Hell's wrongdoings) men of the world. Sam Winchester.

It takes the brothers over an hour to finish their cycle of bickering, showering, eating, and bickering before settling down. Castiel supposes he should be considered lucky that this had not been one of the times where the brothers share confessions. Those add at least another hour and make Castiel very uncomfortable. As of right now though, Castiel deems the timing just right to appear visible to the human eye.

With the grace bestowed upon him by God and conditioned with obedience of sacred obligation, Castiel shifts the waves (of the science, not water variety) colliding with his vessel's molecules to attain visibility to the human eye. It tingles every time.

Four eyes focus on him with remarkable (for human and over half of the monsters that exist on Earth) speed. Castiel says with the stoicism befitting an angel of his caliber and abilities, "Dean."

Dean stares at him, with something akin to devotion and deference Castiel is sure, before saying, "Whaddaya want? I'm eating."

Castiel sees the wrappers on the table in front of Dean, but knows they are from 12 minutes previously. "I do not know what you could be eating, or how you could be hungry since you had a cheese and bacon double stacked burger 12 minutes ago. Dean." The period between 'ago' and 'Dean' emphasizes Castiel's slightly too long, but definitely dramatic pause between the two words, Castiel mentally clarifies. Sometimes timing things at human speeds is difficult, but Castiel makes up for it by behaving in a serious manner that makes odd pauses seem thought provoking.

Anyways, "Have you been spying on us again Castiel?" Dean's voice is laced with a variety of devotion and deference that sound a tad bit similar to disapproval. Castiel instantly forgives him, because Dean is his favorite human, but he is glad no other angel is here to possibly smite Dean for the mistuned sentence.

"I find it easier to wait in your room, rather than leave and come back again, when I need to speak to you. I am an angel with a different interpretation of the temporal reality after all," Castiel may have waited slightly too long to respond, again.

Castiel grows aware of Sam when the tall man lumbers across the room to grab two beers from the slightly too warm fridge. Castiel magics the fridge to moderate its cooling system to a more efficient and accurate temperature. Castiel then dips his head for a second as an acknowledgement to what must be Sam and Dean's internal hurrahs for his, once again, grand feat for them.

Dean has been speaking to him, but grew too awed with Castiel's purposeful staring to be able to continue and seems to have gone back to simultaneously harassing and belittling Sam. Castiel sometimes think Sam is masochist, because a person can generally take only so many accusations of being a bitch before it cracks one's soul. But therein lays an inquiry for another time. He thinks, for that one, he will first speak to the loving owners of a little shop on a corner of Green St. on the outskirts of Las Vegas to find answers.

"Dean. I need to speak to your brother." Castiel finds it best to direct his statements to Dean, because it would be repetitive and inconsiderate if Castiel lengthened the process of getting Sam to receive permission from Dean each time Castiel needed to speak to Sam.

Sam rolls his eyes. Castiel thinks it is a bit too visceral of a reaction to Castiel's holiness. Many prophets have had seizures in which their body spasms in the face of pure grace of angel, but Sam must be especially susceptible if he is already showing mild seizure like behavior in his eyes by being in the vicinity of a vesseled angel. Castiel spares one more glance to Dean to see if Sam's mild trauma has raised too much alarm for Sam to be allowed out. Dean seems content to drink his beer and leave them to their business though.

"Come Sam, I have a question I must ask you," As Castiel reaches towards Sam to angel zap him elsewhere, Dean's eyes widen. Dean is probably reacting to Sam's eye spasms in typical, slow human reaction time, but Castiel childishly (but still with great dignity) thinks "Too late now, sucker!"

Sam and he appear in a cemetery two towns over, as Castiel knows the familiarity of the setting will fill Sam with a temporary comfort while he remains away from Dean. Castiel stares at Sam with shining eyes to convey his understanding, acceptance, and sympathy of Sam's dependence on his brave, bold, older brother.

After a minute, Sam seems to have gathered the courage to speak and says, "Well? What are we doing here Castiel?"

Perhaps being silent for too long, but definitely remaining a strong, powerful figure as he does so, Castiel responds, soothing the frightened tree with a toneless candor, "I have wondered for so long. Tell me Sam, why is it that Dean speaks with such a low, growling voice? Neither your mother nor your father has such a severe baritone. And all my knowledge indicates you should have the deeper voice of the two of you. I determined that much at least after many hours of deliberating with the monks of China, where we gathered that height is a precursor for deeper voices as due to sub-glottal resonance."

Castiel raises his eyebrows to indicate the significance of what he says next, "We found that out by looking on the internet."

Sam stares at him, eyebrows furrowed and hair falling luxuriously upon his developed shoulders (Castiel understands how Sam's _condition_ may makes him feel the need to compensate by appearing burly and musclebound and acknowledges it with the proper amount of admiration and pity), but does not respond. Castiel sighs, disappointed but not surprised when not even Sam can answer his question.

Castiel has important manners to attend to, now that three quarters of the day are gone, but he will definitely return to the unsolvable mystery of Dean's intonation on another occasion. Maybe after the next apocalypse.


End file.
